Avenge This - Prompt Ficlet Collection
by MsBarrows
Summary: An ongoing collection of my prompt ficlets written for prompts on Tumblr.
1. Loki Darcy - Bonding Over Love of Tony

**Loki/Darcy – Bonding Over Their Love Of Tony**

_My first ever MCU prompt fill! Takes place in the same AU as my "Shifting Views" story, in which Frostiron happens, and Darcy and Tony have decided that the pair of them are honorary siblings (though Darcy has enough brothers already, thank you very much) and occasionally hang out together as such._

* * *

Loki watched intently as Darcy toasted some mini-marshmellows threaded on a toothpick with the aid of a lighter, before setting it across one of a pair of shot glasses sitting on the bar, the other already topped with its own toothpick of same. She smiled triumphantly, and slid one across to him. He picked it up, looking at the dark layer at the bottom of the otherwise creamy-looking concoction. "And what is this one called?" he asked, enunciating carefully though he was far from drunk, the drinks of Midgard being comparatively mild compared to those of Asgard. Still, they had been at this for several hours now, ever since the Avengers had been called out for a fight, Tony having to abandon his girl's night in with Darcy.

"It's a s'mores shot," Darcy explained, then picked up the toothpick off of hers, stripping the soft marshmallows off with her teeth and washing them down with the liqueur, before licking the rim of graham cracker crumbs off the glass. "_Delicious._"

"If you say so," Loki said, a touch dubiously, then imitated her example, eyebrows rising a little in surprise. "Sweet," he said, and stuck his tongue into the glass to lick the remains of the tasty liqueur off the inside of the glass.

"_Dude_," Darcy exclaimed, her eyes widening. "You can't just go and do things like that. Not unless you're trying to give me ideas, and I don't think Tony would like you giving me ideas. I think he might be the jealous type."

Loki grinned, and made a show of licking out the glass again. "No, _I'm_ the jealous type," he said pointedly. "Though if you're suggesting I should do this in front of him," he paused for a moment to chase the last drop of the dark liqueur out of the bottom of the glass. "Well, I'll consider it," he said, and grinned at her.

Darcy laughed, and threw a mini-marshmallow at him, bouncing it off the middle of his forehead. "I would pay money to see his reaction," she said. "Another?"

"What is the bottom layer of this? I like it very much."

"Dark chocolate liqueur. Want some straight? Or no, even better, where'd that vanilla ice cream get to, we can have some ice cream drizzled with it."

Which is how Loki found himself ensconced on the couch with Darcy a few minutes later, holding a large bowl of ice cream drowned in chocolate liqueur, Darcy leaning companionably against his shoulder and making humming sounds of pleasure as she ate a spoonful from the shared dish.

"We need a movie to go with this," she told him. "Preferably something animated. Do you like Ghibli films? Has Tony shown you them yet?"

"Yes, and yes, as well as everything Pixar and a number of the Disney movies," he informed her. "I sometimes think he's in a second childhood," he added thoughtfully, before taking another spoonful of ice cream for himself.

Darcy laughed. "I don't think he's ever really left his childhood behind," she said in a confiding tone, then frowned. "Well, except he didn't really have much of a childhood, did he? More like he was a little adult until after his parents died, and only since then has had a chance to let his inner child out to play."

"Mmmm. Perhaps," Loki agreed. "He rarely talks of his childhood to me."

"He rarely talks of it to anyone," Darcy pointed out, and fell silent for a moment, sitting there with her spoon held in her mouth and a thoughtful expression on her face, before pulling it out and pointing the bowl of it at him. "You're good for him, you know."

Loki glanced away, uncomfortable. "He's good to me. Better than I have any right to."

"I dunno if I can argue with that, you were kind of an ass at first," Darcy agreed, unsurprising considering her friendship with his... with Thor. "But you're good for each other."

Loki forced himself to smile. Talking of his relationship with Tony always made him feel uncomfortable; he kept expecting it to go wrong, though so far they'd managed to keep it going without too much drama. "You're good for him too," he told her. "He needed a good friend."

"I'm just one friend of many," she pointed out, looking self-conscious. "Pepper and Rhodey are his best friends..."

"And both of them are very busy and only rarely here," Loki pointed out. "You're the only friend of his I know of that he has named an honorary sibling. He is always... happier, more balanced, after these days out or nights in with you."

Darcy smiled, almost shyly. "I do have fun treating him like a sibling. Not that I really _needed_ any more, with three brothers already, but..."

"But Tony certainly didn't have any experience of having a sibling, until he adopted you as one," Loki said, and smiled crookedly at her. "Proof that adoption is not always a bad thing."

"No, it's not," Darcy agreed, and leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment. "He makes the _best_ honorary big sister ever. And I'm not just saying that because of the shopping sprees we go on together," she added stoutly, frowning slightly.

Loki smiled. "I know it's not his money that won you as his friend," he assured her, then thought for a moment, feeling oddly tentative when he spoke again. "Perhaps... maybe one of the next times you two go out shopping, I could tag along too?"

"Oooo, in your female form? That would be _wicked,_" Darcy exclaimed enthusiastically. "You're so gorgeous when you go fem, like a fashion model. We could have so much fun... we could gang up on him. And seeing him with both of us together would drive the paparazzi into fits. Also, we could buy all the shoes. All. The. Freakin'. Shoes. You need some Louboutins of your own."

Loki smiled. "That could be enjoyable. Though I think... there was that brand you like to tease Thor over? I'd like some of those," he said firmly.

"Miu-Miu's? _Awesome_ idea. I know just the pair for you," she said, smiling. "This is so going to happen. Me, you, Tony, and sisterhood."


	2. Clint Loki - Apologies and New Beginning

**Loki/Clint – Apologies And New Beginnings**

"_Fuck_," Clint exclaimed, taking a few sudden steps backwards before coming to a stop, one hand pressed to his chest, staring at the pale-skinned figure seated cross-legged on the floor of Stark's library, where he'd been hidden from view until Clint was well into the room.

Loki, for his part, merely looked up from the book he was reading. "Clint," he said calmly.

"I'm, uh... I'm just here to grab a book," Clint said nervously, edging to the side and gesturing toward the shelves. He was never going to get used to Loki lurking around the mansion, supposedly-reformed-character or not. He didn't _want_ to get used to it; as far as he was concerned, he'd be just as happy if Loki did all his lurking somewhere far, far away. Another planet entirely, by preference.

It freaked him out more than a little that Loki was just sitting there, watching him. It freaked him out even more when Loki closed his book, using one long finger as a book mark, and tilted his head a little to one side, giving Clint a thoughtful look.

"Clint," he said again, and frowned, looking away, head dropping, his whole posture radiating sudden uncertainty.

"What?" Clint said, then reached out and grabbed a random volume off the closest shelf. "Um. I'll just... I'll just _go_." He moved sideways towards the door, not wanting to turn his back on the magic user.

"Wait," Loki said, and turned his head to look at him again, a sideways look, face still mostly turned away. "Please. We should... talk?"

The hesitance was what stopped him, when little else would have. Clint paused, and bit his lower lip, then sighed, and turned to more fully face Loki. "So talk then," he said, dropping his head to study the carpet underfoot, sneaking glances at Loki from under lowered brows.

"I have been told I should... that is... I wish to apologize to you," Loki said, voice soft, barely above a whisper.

Clint stared to him for a long moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. He reached up after a moment, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "I... don't think I can currently respond to that," he said after a minute. Loki glanced directly at him for a moment, their eyes meeting, then turned his head away, saying nothing further. Clint chewed on his lip again, then abruptly turned away, hurrying toward the door, turning-his-back-on-Loki be damned.

"Clint," Loki said again, softly, just as he started to open the door.

Clint froze, his hand tightening on the handle, sighed, then let his head drop forward to rest against the wood; harder than he'd meant to, causing an audible _thunk_. "Ow. _What_, Loki?"

Loki swallowed audibly. "I know what it is like, to be controlled. To be... made to do things against your nature. Or things that are part of your nature but that you would not do otherwise. I am truly sorry that I did that to you."

Clint stood there in silence, letting his eyes close, trying not to remember but unable to stop the stream of images that flooded through his mind anyway. Shooting at Fury, at Maria, seeing the base collapsing around them even as they escaped from it, the scum he'd recruited, the guards he'd killed, the Helicarrier tilting and beginning a long slide downward, aliens raining death and destruction in the streets of New York. Things he'd only seen later, like the footage of Coulson's fight with Loki, the burials of those killed, the memorial walls everywhere... he drew a deep, shuddering breath, then turned and placed his back against the door, sliding downwards to sit with knees raised, the book he'd picked up held in shaking hands. He felt a trickle of moisture on his chin and swiped at it, realizing he'd bitten partway through his lower lip when he saw the smear of blood on the back of his hand. "_Fuck_," he said, wanting to scream the word, to rage, to throw the book, to attack Loki, to break everything breakable in the room, to beat Loki bloody. "_Fuck you_."

He dropped the book to the floor beside, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, elbows braced against his knees, fighting for composure. For a few minutes the only sound in the room was his own ragged breathing, until he finally managed to smooth it out, to quiet himself. If he'd been Bruce, he would have just hulked out, he found himself thinking, and then felt appalled by his amusement at the thought of the amount of destruction _that_ would have caused, at Loki's likely reaction to finding himself trapped in a confined space with the one Avenger he actually feared.

Finally he uncovered his eyes, letting his head roll back to lean against the door, looking at Loki. "Thor said," he began, and had to stop and clear his throat. "Thor said something about that, before he brought you here. That you were... well, I suppose not exactly a pawn, but not the strongest piece on the board either. That someone else was puppet-mastering you in the same way you did to me."

"I doubt he explained it in quite those words," Loki said softly. His head was lowered, his gaze fixed on the book in his hands. He was holding it tight enough to whiten his knuckles, Clint noticed.

"He didn't," Clint agreed dryly, then scrubbed one hand down his face, scowling as that left another smear of blood on his palm. "Knowing that still doesn't make me feel any better about what you did to me."

"I... wouldn't expect it to. I know how much I _hate_..." Loki broke off, then suddenly lifted his head, meeting Clint's gaze again and this time not flinching from it. "I know how much I hate the being that did the same to me. How strong is my desire to rend his flesh, to inflict torment on his soul, to make him loathe himself even a fraction of the amount he has made me loathe my own being. I thought I was a monster even before I fell into his hands... I did not truly know what a monster was," Loki said, his voice trembling and breaking on the words, his hands visibly shaking. He released his grip on the book in his lap, letting it fall closed the last little amount, so that he could rub at the back of one hand with the other, tugging fitfully on his fingers. "If... if it would bring you some measure of peace to hurt me, to punish me... I would understand. I would accept that."

Clint stared at him. This time it was he that looked away, looking down at his own hands where they lay clenched in fists in his lap. "No," he said abruptly, and straightened first one leg, then the other, forced his hands to relax, wiping sweaty palms off on his thighs and then laying his hands flat on them. "No, that wouldn't... it wouldn't bring me peace." He rolled his head back again, closing his eyes, concentrating on keeping his breathing even. When he continued his voice was measured, kept flat and calm only through strong effort. "It took me a long time, afterwards, to accept that I wasn't to blame for what happened. That I... that I wasn't due punishment for it. Even now there are times when I think it would have been better if I hadn't survived. When I think that the people who know what I did and blame me for it are _right_."

"It was not..."

"_Shut up_. If I accept that I am not to blame, than I have to accept that you were not to blame either, and _that's fucking hard!_" He fell silent again briefly, getting himself back under control, listening to Loki's now-audible breathing, as ragged as his own had been earlier.

"It's hard," he finally continued, opening his eyes but keeping his gaze turned upwards, studying the ceiling. "I hated you _so much_ for what you made me do, and now... well, now you're here, and I'm stuck tripping over you every damn day, and I know you're not allowed to go and stay anywhere else. Protective custody and all that crap. Anyway... your damned apology is accepted, okay?" He stopped talking, began chewing on his lip again and winced at the pain. "Ow. _Fuck_."

To his surprise, Loki laughed. A rusty, rasping sound with little humour in it, but still a _laugh_. He dropped his head forward, staring at him disbelievingly.

"I'm sorry," Loki said, and looked away again, cheeks flushing. "I can... if you let me, I can heal that before you injure yourself further." A pause. "If you can trust me enough for that."

"I... guess? Okay," Clint found himself saying, for reasons he didn't understand except that the voicing of his anger and the laugh, brief and maybe inappropriate as it as, had changed something, diffused something. He tensed as Loki rose and walked over, dropping to his knees on the floor beside him.

"I will need to touch it," Loki said, meeting his gaze again.

Clint stared at him, almost started to bite at his lip again, stopping himself only just in time. He sighed. "Yeah, fine."

Loki moved slowly, hesitating with his hand near Clint's chin before closing the final little distance, giving Clint plenty of time to change his mind or flinch away if he'd wanted to. He stayed still, instead, fatalistically thinking that if it turned out what Thor had said was wrong, was a lie, that if Loki was still the same evil bastard they'd fought a year ago, it would be better to find out sooner rather than later; that if Loki was to enslave anyone, Clint would rather it be himself than any of his friends.

Loki's hand was cool and dry, his fingers trembling just slightly as he drew them along the abraded skin. Clint wasn't sure what he'd expected to feel – a tingling, more pain, a numbness – but he felt nothing, not even the slight twinge his own touch would have caused.

"It is done," Loki said softly, sitting back on his heels. "There is still some blood, but it is healed," he added as he wiped his hand clean on the tail of his shirt, making a face at the mark it left.

"Thanks," Clint said, and rubbed at his chin, frowning slightly at the final smear of blood it left on his fingers. "That's going to stain," he sad, gesturing at Loki's shirt.

"No it won't," Loki said, and shrugged, his outfit changing from the simple shirt and jeans he'd been wearing to something more Asgardian in appearance – though thankfully not his armour – and then back again. The mark was gone.

"Damn. Wish I knew that trick," Clint said, then made a face. "I better go wash my hands."

Loki nodded and shifted backwards, remaining on his knees as Clint rose to his feet, pushing aside the book he'd dropped earlier before opening the door. He paused in the doorway, looked back to where Loki still knelt. "Loki," he said.

Loki looked up, one eyebrow raising questioningly.

"Thank you. And if you ever go after the fucker who was controlling you? I want in. I owe him a few myself."

Loki smiled then, just slightly. "Of course," he said, nodding. "Thank you as well."

Clint nodded, and left.


End file.
